


And you can have it all

by bluevalentine69



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Arthur loves Merlin but it's complicated, Betrayal, Blow Jobs, Bottom Merlin, Homophobia, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Kind of a Happy Ending, Lies, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Physical Abuse, Poor Merlin, Rimming, Top Arthur, homophobic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-12 18:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17472827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevalentine69/pseuds/bluevalentine69
Summary: Arthur falls in love with his shy, quiet university flatmate. But Merlin has a dark past and a lot of issues. Can Arthur be the man that Merlin needs him to be to get better? Will saving Merlin destroy Arthur?Sometimes you're just too young to fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work title taken from the epically sad but beautiful Johnny Cash song, 'Hurt':
> 
> And you could have it all  
> My empire of dirt  
> I will let you down  
> I will make you hurt

Arthur’s not quite sure how it happens, he’s not drunk or anything. He’s lying on the floor of his student flat with Merlin, listening to music, and he turns to grin at him when their favourite Johnny Cash song comes on. Merlin smiles softly at Arthur, looking at him from beneath his sooty lashes, and Arthur doesn’t - _can’t_ \- break eye contact. So they look at each other quietly, assessingly, a new energy, a question building between them, and then Arthur rolls onto his side and runs his thumb carefully along Merlin’s jaw. Merlin doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, he just keeps watching Arthur’s face, and Arthur closes the distance without thought, lowering his head to press his lips against Merlin’s gently. He feels Merlin’s lips press back against his, feather light, dry, hesitant, and he feels a rumble of a laugh start in his belly, threatening to gurgle out into the silence between them; it’s _weird_ , kissing Merlin, kissing a boy - a man, really. Arthur’s never kissed another guy before. Merlin’s barely-there stubble scratches his cheek and it’s that that makes him want to laugh - this strange new sensation, the novelty of it. Not to mention the fact it’s _Merlin_. Merlin his accidental university flatmate of three months (he lost a bet with his rugby mates in his first term and had to move out of their fancy house and into a tiny, cheap flat in the poor side of town). Three months of getting to know his gentle, kind, shy flatmate; naturally solitary, carrying an air of loneliness about him, as if always expecting rejection. Arthur worked hard to make him comfortable in his company, and once Merlin relaxed, Arthur discovered him to be a little bit magical; clever, quirky, funny, kind, sweet, eager to please, always greeting Arthur with a face-splitting beam like Arthur’s made his fucking day just by _being_ in it. He feels protective of Merlin now, responsible for him somehow. And oddly drawn to him. Which is how he finds himself mouth to mouth with his new friend.

He pulls back to make an offhand comment about the weirdness of man-to-man kissing and to brush this strange _moment_ under the carpet, perhaps, to just laugh it off, but then he sees Merlin’s flushed face, vulnerable, cautious, gazing at him warily like he’s about to be the punchline of a cosmic joke, and Arthur realises two things at once: _he’s gay. he likes me._ His heart breaks a little for Merlin, and he needs Merlin not to look at him like that. Like he’s about to shatter the fragile foundations of his universe. So he turns his pause into a careful shift of their positions instead of a laugh, drawing Merlin’s lean body flush against his own, into his arms, eyes locked with Merlin’s the whole time, and finds Merlin’s lips again, flicking his tongue out to lick open Merlin’s mouth, sliding his hand down Merlin’s spine, caressing his lower back in soothing circles, and he feels Merlin shudder against him, a muffled moan exhaled into Arthur’s mouth; he curls into a shivering ball in Arthur’s arms. 

“Hey,” Arthur says softly, confused, holding him close, and nuzzling his cheek and ear. “Is this okay?” Merlin’s eyes are closed and his forehead is pressed to Arthur’s shoulder. His breathing is erratic and Arthur panics a little. “Merlin?” Merlin simply grips his shirt, clinging to Arthur, who holds him steady. His hand naturally rises to stroke Merlin’s soft, dark curls, waiting for him to speak. Eventually Merlin draws back, eyes pleading silently with Arthur. 

“Why?” is all he whispers, face agonised. Arthur doesn’t know how to answer his question, but thinks ‘I don’t know’ is probably the wrong answer. He tries to be honest though.

“Because I wanted to. I’m sorry if it wasn’t okay.” Merlin lets his head drop back to Arthur’s shoulder and nervously plays with his shirt buttons.

“Am I an experiment?” he asks quietly, “or a test, or a dare or something?” Arthur tightens his embrace.

“God, no!” he says firmly, vaguely appalled. “I don’t know what I’m doing really M, but I wanted to kiss you … I still want to kiss you.” Arthur realises it’s true. He doesn’t feel like laughing at all now. Instead he’s wondering what Merlin’s naked skin feels like, what sounds he makes in pleasure. Merlin nods into his shoulder and then peels himself away, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his legs, pushing his head between his knees. Arthur sits up beside him. 

“I really like you Arthur,” Merlin mumbles into his arms, and Arthur has to lean closer to hear him properly. “I like you, but you scare me,” he whispers, almost inaudibly. Arthur makes a decision and moves to sit directly behind Merlin, wrapping his legs around him, pulling him back against Arthur’s chest, locking him into his strong circle of arms. Merlin allows himself to be manoeuvred and rests his head back against Arthur. 

“Tell me why I scare you?” Arthur murmurs reassuringly into his ear, nose stroking his neck. Merlin shivers again and whimpers quietly. “ _Tell me, Merlin_ ,” Arthur commands, wetly mouthing at the space between Merlin’s neck and collarbone. 

“Please _Arthur_ \- I can’t think straight - please stop for a minute.” Arthur complies immediately and leans back against the wall, holding Merlin to him closely, stroking up and down his arms as he waits. 

“I’m gay,” Merlin starts out quietly, eyes closed, arms wrapped protectively around his own waist, “I realised when I was fourteen or fifteen that I like the idea of men, not women. But my parents are very religious, very traditional, for them it’s a sin, it means hell, and they sent me to a religious school. So I’ve never,” Merlin pauses to take a breath, “I’ve never done _anything_ \- with _anyone_ \- which is a bit pathetic isn’t it? To be eighteen and not to have even held hands or kissed another person? And even though I’ve never done _anything_ , the guys I went to school with decided I was a _fag_ anyway - because I like drama and music and books and not sports, I guess - and I used to get,” Merlin pauses again, struggling for breath, fists clenched, and Arthur wants to tell him to stop, but he also wants to hear this, to learn, to understand, “I used to get attacked quite a lot,” he continues, almost under his breath, “I ended up in hospital a couple of times. And my parents were so worried and frantic and asked me if I was _that_ , what the boys at school said and punished me for, and even though I wasn’t _doing_ anything I couldn’t deny it, couldn’t deny who I knew I was inside, and they were so _ashamed_ ,” Merlin starts crying softly, “they told me I’d always have a home but that they could never condone my lifestyle.” Merlin breaks his story to sob quietly and Arthur squeezes Merlin close, horrified, angry, overwhelmed by the sudden and profound intensity of his feelings for this man, and he kisses Merlin’s cheek. 

“I’ll be your family,” Arthur vows seriously, meaning it. Merlin wipes his face on his sleeve.

“I want to be with you, Arthur, but that means closing the door on my family once and for all. Being completely alone in the world. And that’s okay if you’re serious and you like me and you want me too, but if this - _I_ \- am just another _thing_ to you then please don’t do this. Please just be my friend.” He trails off and stares at his bare feet, his narrow, vulnerable ankles, and Arthur is astonished to realise it’s not even a _choice_. He’s Merlin’s. Merlin’s his. No-one will ever hurt Merlin again. 

“I want you,” he says simply, using his thumb to tilt Merlin’s face towards his, so that he can look at him properly, reassure him. “You’re beautiful and lovely and I want you, whenever you’re ready.” Merlin twists around in his arms and curls into his chest, wrapping his skinny arms around Arthur fiercely. 

“I’m ready,” he says with quiet assurance, tipping his face towards Arthur. There’s no hesitation this time. Arthur tenderly kisses him, tangling his fingers in Merlin’s dark hair, fingers cradling Merlin’s face, his head. He stops to press a kiss to Merlin’s brow.

“I’m glad,” he smiles, groaning when he sees the clock. “Fuck. It’s late, we’ve both got early lectures tomorrow. Come and sleep in my bed tonight? For a cuddle?” Merlin flushes and smiles awkwardly, nodding in happy embarrassment. Arthur gets them into bed and turns out the lights and wraps himself and his duvet round Merlin, snuggling in a big way, wanting nothing more than for him to feel safe. Merlin curls into his side, feet rubbing Arthur’s like a happy baby, and he sighs, comfortably. “I’m going to look after you, Merlin,” Arthur promises into his lover’s hair, “you’re safe with me.” Merlin snuggles his face further into the crook of Arthur’s arm.

“I feel safe,” he murmurs. Arthur grins. 

 

*

 

Over the next weeks their living situation changes a little, affected by their newfound dynamic. They still move around each other easily, coming and going from their lectures, Merlin his job at the library, Arthur from rugby practice, but in the evenings they sit close together holding hands, cuddling, kissing lazily, softly introducing their tongues, which is new, and they sleep entwined together, wrapped around each other. Merlin’s family may have effectively disowned him, but Arthur’s not got much in the way of family either. His mother died when he was born and his father spends most of his time in New York on business, so it’s just Arthur and his half-sister when she remembers to make time to see him (she moved to Edinburgh to run her own clothes company, wanting to be as far away from their father as possible). So it’s strange for him, feeling a sense of _home_ for the first time. A sense of belonging. He likes it. But he also feels a bit overwhelmed by the promise he didn’t really mean to make, which he wants to try to keep; he truly likes Merlin - _cares_ for him, deeply maybe - but he’s always been something of a playboy and he likes women and he likes sex and he hadn’t planned to give all of that up quite so soon in life. He wanted to kiss Merlin in the moment, sure, but he hadn’t actually thought further than that. And now they’re effectively _together_ he supposes, and Merlin has expectations from him, depends on him emotionally; it’s a lot. And he hasn’t gone so long without sex since he was fifteen! He’s horny and irritable. He can’t rush into _that_ with Merlin, Merlin’s not ready yet. So he’s doomed to have blue balls apparently. He starts to feel the faint temptation for _release_ when he has a pint - then four more - post-rugby at the bar. The temptation to flirt, to touch. He ends up in a car parked on a leafy street whilst Sophia, one of his former conquests, sucks him off. He comes hard and hot down her throat, and feels immediately guilty afterwards. It’s not a blonde head and green eyes he wants looking up at him. _Shit_. Sophia expects the favour to be returned, and pulls the lever on the passenger seat to lower it backwards so that she can slide off her panties and sit on his face. Arthur dutifully squeezes her pert bottom and licks and sucks at her clit, her pussy, tongue fucking her until she’s writhing and coming above him. At least with Sophia it’s uncomplicated. As soon as she’s done she scoots into the driver’s seat and asks if she can drop him somewhere before she heads home. 

 

*

 

He pauses before going up to his flat - _their flat_. He feels sick, guilt twisting his gut into knots. Merlin can’t know. Fuck. He winces as he opens the door and feels his heart sink even further when he sees that Merlin has tried to wait up for him, sitting in front of a flickering TV with a blanket pulled over his skinny frame. Arthur moves past him quietly - briefly glancing at his tired face, frowning worriedly in sleep, curled up vulnerably as always - and into his bedroom, where he showers and brushes his teeth immediately, dumping his clothes - smelling of beer and smoke and pub and the faintly sweet smell of Sophia’s car air freshener - in the laundry basket. He exits naked and finds Merlin has woken up and relocated to his bed. 

“Hi!” Merlin mumbles from beneath the duvet. Arthur slides into bed next to him and presses up behind Merlin’s back. Merlin twists and snuggles into his chest. His eyes flutter open when he realises Arthur is butt naked. “You’re back late?” he whispers sleepily. Arthur’s heart clenches and he strokes Merlin’s hair. 

“I went to the pub with the boys after practice,” he says, not wanting to lie more than necessary. “I’m sorry, I should have let you know.” Merlin shakes his head and makes a little noise of protest.

“I’m glad you had fun,” he says simply. Arthur nuzzles his neck and smells the warm _Merlin_ smell invade his senses, and he _wants_ him, wants to remove all trace of Sophia. He feels suddenly desperate and horny. Beginning to lightly lick and nibble Merlin’s throat, Arthur slips his hand under Merlin’s t-shirt and slides it up his lean torso, circling his nipples, tweaking them. Merlin moans and arches closer to him. Arthur takes this as a rare sign of encouragement and runs his hand back down Merlin’s body and into his pyjama bottoms, stroking his soft cock persuasively. Merlin begins to harden and bites his lip and flushes as he tilts his face upwards to kiss Arthur, eyes glazed, and Arthur feels this is the most relaxed Merlin’s ever been about physical intimacy, ironically.

“Let me take care of you, please Merlin?” Arthur whispers desperately as he slides his tongue over Merlin’s, keeps pumping Merlin’s cock. Merlin nods and Arthur makes quick work of stripping him, kissing his way down Merlin’s body, spreading his legs to lie open and wide apart, and taking his lovely long untouched cock into his mouth. Merlin gasps as Arthur lavishes his cock with attention, sucking the head, running his tongue along the slit, moving back to suck Merlin’s balls, pressing his tongue against Merlin’s hole. Merlin is letting out an incessant stream of muttered expletives and groans and _Gods_ and _Arthur_ and he’s positively squirming, flushed, shivering under Arthur’s ministrations. Arthur takes his cock back into his mouth and sucks him down his throat, finger now playing with Merlin’s rim, and Merlin’s suddenly bucking, spasming, toes curling, shooting his load into the back of Arthur’s throat, and Arthur feels gratified that his first attempt at giving a guy head seems to have gone well. And it wasn’t too horrible, either. He likes Merlin’s cock, his skinny body, his thick dark nest of pubic hair, his tightly furled virginal pink muscle, his musky smell, his slightly bitter taste. Merlin opens his eyes blearily and looks down at Arthur, nosing his pubic hair and softly stroking his inner thigh. He squirms in mortification, and tries to cover himself, but Arthur keeps his hips pinned down with strong hands as he drinks in the smell of Merlin’s damp groin; apparently he likes that too. He sits back on his heels and gazes down at Merlin, limp and boneless beneath him. “Roll over for me love,” he instructs him quietly, “lie on your belly for me.” Merlin looks hesitant and nervous for a moment but he obliges, head resting on his arms. Arthur moves his legs apart and then bends them at the knee, pushing them up on either side of Merlin’s groin so that Merlin’s arse is spread, hole visible and open, pushed up before him. 

“Arth - Arthur -” Merlin stutters warningly, but then Arthur’s tongue and fingers are back, and Arthur’s extracted the lube from under his pillow, and he begins working Merlin open slowly, exploring his lover, cock hardening painfully in jealousy. Merlin is moaning again, biting his arm, but he’s rutting against the bed subconsciously, seeking relief, so Arthur knows he’s turned on, he’s enjoying it. Merlin gasps as Arthur finds his nub and begins to milk it, rubbing it slowly with his fingers, and Arthur sucks a love bite into his round, white, unblemished butt cheek, wanting to mark him. Merlin is letting out a hushed stream of “nnnggh, nnnggh, nnnggh” as Arthur works him, and soon Arthur can’t wait any longer. 

“I want to be inside you Merlin,” he whispers, moving up his body and aligning their torsos and legs, arms on either side of Merlin’s head, leaning down to kiss Merlin’s soft ears, his soft neck, “Please let me, Merlin, baby?” he croons, “please let me make love to you?” Merlin’s face looks torn, he’s nervous and fighting his demons but he wants to be close to Arthur, to please him, to feel him and so he eventually nods. Arthur quickly slips on a condom and slicks himself up with lube, whispering reassurances into Merlin’s ear, _I’ll take care of you Merls, it’s just you and me, I’ll be gentle, I’ll stop as soon as you ask me to_ , and then he’s lining up and pushing in, and _fuck_ , Merlin’s so _tight_ , the muscle of his channel is massaging Arthur’s penis, and he can’t resist, he slams in until he’s fully, deeply seated, and Merlin shouts in pain and shock. 

“Arthur, please, ow, it hurts, oh god Arthur, it hurts,” he pleads, starting to cry, body shaking beneath Arthur. Arthur stops moving but stays inside him, wrapping his arms around Merlin reassuringly, nuzzling behind his ear.

“Shhh, baby, shhh, it’s okay, you’ll get used to it, I promise, it’s okay, it’s just me, it’s okay.” Merlin eventually settles and his tears stop leaking and he sniffs, face still wincing in pain, but he nods and Arthur knows it’s his go-ahead to move, so he starts to stroke in and out, long, powerful, sure strokes, slamming in at the end and Merlin is grunting and biting his arm again until suddenly Arthur slams into the right spot and Merlin’s eyes fly open and he arches, moaning in pleasure. “Found it again, did I?” Arthur asks, kissing Merlin’s neck, and he slams into the same spot, again and again and again, and then he reaches down to grab Merlin’s cock and pumps him hard until he comes for a second time and Arthur follows him over immediately, pumping his release into the condom inside Merlin. Once the wave of pleasure has washed over him and away, he slips out, feeling Merlin wince, and takes off his condom, tying it and throwing it into a paper bin in the corner. He lies back and pulls a lifeless Merlin towards him, rubbing his back and arse and thighs soothingly, knowing he’ll be sore. “How do you feel?” he asks gently, feeling totally blissed out himself, sated after a good fuck at last. And Jesus Christ, fucking a man in the arse is SO much better than fucking a woman - in either orifice, actually. He could definitely get used to this. Merlin flexes his muscles gingerly.

“M’okay,” he says into Arthur’s chest, fingers lightly drawing circles in Arthur’s chest hair. “It hurt but then it was _good_ hurt, if that makes sense? But I liked you being inside me. I like being close to you.” He closes his eyes and snuffles into Arthur adorably. Arthur thinks he might be a little bit in love. 

“I’d like you to try me next time. If you want, I mean?” he offers gamely; in for a penny, in for a pound he figures. Merlin smiles up at him.

“I’ll be your first too, then, won’t I?” Merlin says happily, and Arthur squeezes him and nods.

“You will be the proud owner of my arse virginity, yes,” he agrees and Merlin blushes again and hides his face. Arthur strokes him until he’s basically purring, and Arthur wonders if he’s fallen asleep. But then Merlin whispers to him.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Arthur. I’m so grateful to have found you. You’re so important to me.” Arthur feels sick again as he thinks of Sophia’s tongue toying with his foreskin earlier, but he presses a kiss to Merlin’s hair, and turns his face up to look at him.

“And you to me. You know I’m yours, don’t you Merlin?” he asks quietly. Merlin lowers his gaze bashfully.

“I’m yours too,” he says, and sighs, happily wrapped in Arthur’s arms as they drift to sleep. Arthur doesn’t sleep at all that night. 


	2. Chapter 2

After a couple of months, they introduce each other to their friends; Merlin’s English Lit friends, Freya and Gwen and Mordred; and Arthur’s rugby friends - most from the same school too - Leon, Gwaine, Percy, Elyan, Lance. It’s surprisingly easy and normal. Arthur thought he might freak out; he doesn’t. He bottoms for Merlin. He doesn’t really enjoy it. It’s not that it hurts or anything - quite the opposite actually - Merlin’s so damn _gentle_ , so scared of hurting Arthur, so loving, and he always takes it slow, reverently kissing the top of Arthur’s shoulder, across his strong back, and he never quite _hits the spot_ , which Arthur gathers is kind of the _point_ of anal sex. But he lets Merlin make love to him and tries to jack himself off to a satisfying completion whilst Merlin bodily worships him. But by and large, they’ve settled into their original sexual roles; Arthur’s the top, Arthur’s the dominant, Arthur’s the controller. Merlin’s still shy and insecure in bed, nervous and embarrassed when Arthur admiringly scrutinises his body, worried that he’s not good enough. This reticence still annoys Arthur. He sucks Merlin into a state of bliss pretty much once a day; it’s starting to grate that the favour is never returned unless requested. When he does go down on Arthur he’s sweet and earnest and sucks him like a baby suckling milk, drinking from him, adoring him, reverent, gentle; sometimes Arthur just wants to go hard. And frankly, Arthur just has a higher sex drive. He wants to fuck Merlin ten times a day - at least. Merlin’s happy just to cuddle and kiss for most of the week, saving sex for the weekend. He’s also not very adventurous; Arthur buys games and toys and suggests role-plays and outfits; Merlin’s just not that interested; he squirms uncomfortably when Arthur suggests butt plugs or anal beads and says that Arthur is enough for him. So, sexually, although Arthur is obsessed with _Merlin_ and his body and enjoys taking him, there’s still an itch that isn’t quite being scratched. That aside, Merlin is perfect. He’s started leaving little messages on post-its on the fridge before he leaves for the day, he makes Arthur (who is not a morning person) coffee whilst he’s in the shower, he brings home Arthur’s favourite chocolate on Fridays, he potters round their flat making it homely, he comes to Arthur’s rugby games to cheer him on, and feels proud when Arthur wins, proud to be the one standing beside Arthur holding his hand in the pub celebrating, to be the one Arthur slides his arm around, anchors himself to. He beams whenever he’s near Arthur, gazing at him with nothing less than profound devotion. And Arthur adores Merlin too; he loves that he’s so sweet, and that he’s like a squirrel, always nesting in a pile of blankets with snacks, and he gives Merlin his rugby sweaters that smell of him, and makes him hot water bottles and hot chocolate and sits through hours of Doctor Who, passing Merlin tissues, he massages him with oils, working out all the knots of tension in his body, telling him again and again how beautiful he is, heart bursting with joy when Merlin smiles, starts to believe in himself. He thinks Merlin waking up is the cutest thing he’s ever seen in his life; rumpled, hair sticking up, grumpy, rubbing his face, scrunching his eyes against the light - he’s basically a kitten. And when he stretches, elegant, long, lithe - a cat. And when he’s enthusiastic about the food Arthur’s made for supper whilst he’s been on shift at the library - a puppy, wagging his invisible tail. Arthur can’t imagine no Merlin in his life anymore; doesn’t want to. He just wishes he felt sexually fulfilled.

*

At the end of the second term they’re going back to their separate family homes for Easter. Merlin is worried but knows he has to keep the gates open with his parents, has to go back in his uni holidays to see them, but Arthur reassures him it’s only two weeks and then Merlin is going to come and stay with Arthur for their final week, maybe drive to Wales or the Lakes, spend some time in the hills, the woods together. And, he points out, they can easily Skype every day. Merlin can just keep his head down at home, read next term’s books, write his coursework. Merlin nods sadly and worries the frayed sleeves of his jumper. Arthur gathers him into his arms before driving him to the station. 

“Remember; you’re mine now, not theirs, and I think you’re lovely, and if you want to leave, you know I’ll come and rescue you straight away. I promise.” Merlin smiles and leans in to kiss Arthur slowly, tangling their tongues together, chasing comfort, _home_. And then he’s on the train and Arthur watches it disappear and begins his long drive down to his family’s London house; the country house is just too lonely with no-one there. There’ll be no-one in London either, except their housekeeper, but Arthur is in walking distance of cafes and pubs and sports centres and _life_ and that suits him better. When he gets home the hall light is on and there’s a note for him on the hall table from his housekeeper - _Welcome home! Supper’s in the fridge. I’ll be in at 10 tomorrow so I can make you brunch if you’d like a lie in. Hilda_ \- and suddenly he feels restless. He dumps his bags, grabs his leather jacket, and turns on his heel and walks straight back out the door. He knows where he’s heading. He’s been curious, since starting things with Merlin, about what that means in terms of _other men_. Is he bisexual or Merlinsexual? So he goes to the elite Circus club in Soho flashing his Black Members VIP card at the bouncer (it gets him into every private members club in London, courtesy of his father), and works his way to the bar. Everyone here is gay, in theory. And certainly the men in this exclusive room are visions to behold; supple, well looked after bodies, expensive clothes, seductive aftershave; Arthur finds himself turned on instantly. He orders a double whisky and takes a good drag of it, sweeping his eyes across the dance floor. He adores Merlin, this isn’t about wanting to betray him - he could never do that - but he has to prove something to himself. He wants gay sex with someone who knows what he’s doing. It only takes a couple of minutes before he makes eye contact with a mountain of a man. Easily 6’5, muscly, like a heavyweight boxing champion, handsome, rugged square face, so solid he makes Arthur look like a twink, and Arthur’s groin heats up and he raises his glass, smiling confidently across the room. The man is with him in moments. 

“Drink?” he asks Arthur in a deep voice, smirking, eyes suggesting something else as he licks his lip and runs his gaze over Arthur’s body. Arthur shakes his head and downs his whisky. 

“Where d’you wanna go?” he asks lightly. The man grins lasciviously and nods his head towards the back of the club, easily parting the crowd, moving through it powerfully, and Arthur follows behind him, into the men’s toilets, where muscle-man locks the door and bends Arthur over the sink. He catches his eye in his reflection and the man’s silently asking for permission, so Arthur nods at him, raising an eyebrow challengingly, and the man chuckles and unbuckles his jeans, pushing them down to his knees, quickly opens a sachet of lube, coats his fingers, gives a quick thrust into Arthur to coat his channel but not to open him, to prepare him properly, and then he’s rolling on a condom, slicking that with lube, and then thrusting into Arthur in one brutally hard stroke. Arthur feels like the air’s been punched out of his lungs and like his body’s being split in two but thinks _yes, this is what it should be like_ and lets his head drop between his shoulders as the stranger pounds him senseless, fucks him mercilessly, uses his body roughly, quickly, hitting Arthur’s prostrate on every in-stroke and Arthur is being _loud_ and he _loves it_ and he groans when he feels his balls tighten, he needs to come, reaching his hand down and coming all over the sink unit, breathing harshly whilst big-guy finishes inside him. He aches, he’s sweaty, he thinks of Merlin, but his body feels good, itch scratched at last. He tucks himself back in and washes his hands, smooths his hair in the mirror. “Cheers mate,” he grins at the Mountain, who salutes him as he sorts himself out, and Arthur’s gone, out of the club, heading home not even feeling particularly guilty. He’s not _making love_ with other people, he’s not kissing them, being intimate with them, there’s no emotion in what he does, he just needs more sex - rougher sex - than Merlin can give him. It’s just who he is. As long as Merlin never finds out, Arthur figures, it’s fine, he can be what Merlin needs him to be, he can make Merlin happy, he can be gentler and more loving in bed, if he’s allowed these occasional outlets. He goes to the fridge once he’s in the house and eats the supper Hilda prepared for him; lasagne. At midnight, it’s good. He cracks open a beer and takes it upstairs to his room with the bags he dumped in the hall earlier, and sets about having a nice hot shower, relishing the hot water soothing his aching muscles, arse feeling weird but in a way Arthur thinks he likes. Once his skin is red he puts on a towel robe and then lounges on his bed, flicking on the TV and drinking his beer. He feels kind of horny again, he wishes Merlin was here. He wants to fuck him open, watch Merlin’s eyes open with surprise (he’s still always _surprised_ at the moment Arthur’s body connects with his and Arthur adores him for it), and then he wants Merlin sucking his fingers whilst he strokes his cock, too gently to make him come, whilst he uses his body, makes Merlin come undone with pleasure, start begging, and then he wants to pull out, flip Merlin over, come all over his chest, rub his come into Merlin’s nipples, his skin, into his hair, making Merlin _his_ , and then he’ll go down on Merlin, kiss his silky cock, smooth his sore hole with his tongue, love him until he releases his delicious seed into Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur will feed it back to him in soft kisses, holding him tight afterwards. God, he misses him. He steps off the bed to retrieve his jacket, find his mobile to message him, and stops when he sees the screen. 17 missed calls. No messages, no voicemails, just missed calls - from Merlin. His heart clenches and he rings back immediately. Merlin answers on the first ring, voice shaking, broken by wracking sobs. 

“Merlin I’m so sorry, I went out for a drink and forgot my phone at home, I’ve only just seen your missed calls. What’s happened? Are you okay? Do you need me?” Merlin can’t answer because he’s crying and Arthur aches, he wants him in his arms. “Shhh, baby it’s okay, tell me, I’m here, it’ll be okay.” Eventually Merlin’s sniffles subside. 

“Can you come and get me?” he asks in a small voice, at last. 

“Of course,” Arthur replies immediately, “are you at home?” Merlin sniffs again, starts to cry softly. “Merls?” Arthur prompts gently. It takes time.

“No,” Merlin whispers. “I’m at a bus stop by Worth Station.” Arthur’s mind works fast. 

“It’s going to take me at least an hour and a half to drive to you,” Arthur calculates quickly, “are you going to be safe until then? Is there a 24 hour service station or McDonalds or something you can wait in? Get a coffee?” 

“No, we kind of live in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be okay Arthur. It’s on Woodstock Road, will your SatNav be able to find it?” 

“Yeah I’ll google the post code, don’t worry, I’m on my way, you’ll be home safe with me soon.” 

“Thank you,” Merlin mumbles brokenly, crying again. 

“I have to go now, love,” Arthur says, “I’m sorry, I’ll find you.” 

“Bye,” Merlin whispers.

 

Arthur finds Merlin just after 2am. He’s huddled on the ground in the corner of the bus stop, bags around him, arms wrapped round his knees. Arthur parks the car in the bus space and leaves the engine running whilst he jumps out to make sure Merlin’s okay. He’s shaking badly, and he smells like vomit, Arthur thinks maybe he’s been sick.

“I’m here Merls,” Arthur says, crouching in front of him. “Let’s get you someplace warm, shall we? Are you ready?” Merlin nods into his knees and then looks up at Arthur. He stifles a gasp. Merlin’s eye is a nasty purple and there’s a cut on his cheek. He’s clutching his stomach too. “Who did this to you?” Arthur says, trying to control his anger. 

“Dad,” Merlin says. “I told them I had a boyfriend when they asked about uni. He asked if I’d allowed myself to be sodomised yet,” Merlin’s face crumples in anguish, and Arthur clutches his hands. “I didn’t answer but he could tell, he knew. He lost it. He said I wasn’t welcome in his house anymore, bringing my evil into his home. He threw my bags out and then he … he …” Merlin gestured at his body, his face. “And then he threw me out too.” 

“Fuck,” Arthur murmured, wishing he’d checked his bloody phone sooner. How long must Merlin have been sitting here alone? He stood up and leant down to help Merlin to his feet, watching him wince. “Merls, can I take a look, love? I might need to take you to a hospital.” Merlin closes his eyes and nods, lifting up his sweater, and Arthur examines his purple stomach under the streetlight. “Shit. I’m taking you to A&E, he might have cracked a rib or something.” Merlin just nods and allows Arthur to help him into the car, loading his bags into the passenger seats. Arthur puts on the heated seat, wanting to make Merlin comfortable, and leans over to kiss his temple lightly before he googles the nearest hospital. 

“Can we go to one near you?” Merlin asks, looking at his lap. And Arthur realises. He doesn’t want to get his dad into trouble. He’s already known at the hospital here. And he probably wants to be as far away from this miserable place as possible. 

“Of course,” Arthur says, gently turning his face to look at him. “I know we haven’t said this yet, Merls, but I love you so much. I love everything about you. You’re beautiful, and perfect, and you don’t deserve this, and I’m so sorry. You’ll always be safe with me, you’ll always have a home.” Tears are running silently down Merlin’s cheeks but he holds Arthur’s hand tightly.

“I love you too,” he whispers. “You’re my whole world, Arthur.” Arthur feels his throat constrict with emotion and the pressure of expectation again. 

“And you are mine,” he replies, reaching back to get his jacket and wrapping it around Merlin, turning the heat up whilst he drives him back to London. He has a brainwave en route and decides to call their family physician, Dr Gaius, instead. He knows Merlin will be more comfortable with that, and Gaius is discreet. He calls him on his car’s bluetooth when they’re half an hour away from home. It’s nearly 4am. 

“Arthur?” a croaky, tired voice answers on the sixth ring, “is everything okay m’boy?” Arthur smiles at the reassuring voice of the man who is more like an uncle to him. 

“I’m sorry to wake you Gaius. I wouldn’t have called unless it was an emergency. I have a friend who’s been attacked, badly beaten, and I’ve just picked him up, I’m taking him to our Grosvenor House. I’m worried there might be some internal damage, he needs medical attention, but if I take him to a hospital they’ll want to involve the police, and he doesn’t want questions. I was hoping I could bring him to you?”

“How terrible,” Gaius says, sounding far more awake, “yes of course you must bring him to me my boy, I’ll have tea waiting.” 

“Thank you Gaius,” Arthur breathes out, relieved, “we’ll see you soon.” 

 

Arthur waits in Gaius’s living room whilst he’s in his surgery examining Merlin. He thinks he might have dozed off at some point because he’s aware of sitting up very suddenly when he hears voices making their way towards him. 

“All done,” Gaius says. “I’ve taken some x-rays. Everything looks in order. Just a lot of bruising, swelling, it’s painful and ugly but not life-threatening.” Arthur thinks he sounds impressively cheerful about that. But he’s relieved. 

“I can’t thank you enough, Gaius. How can I help him?” 

“Ice-packs, hot baths, feet up for a couple of days, chocolate.” Arthur nods. 

“Well - we’ll let you get back to bed for a few hours. Thank you again.” 

 

Once they’re back at Arthur’s house, Arthur leads them straight upstairs to his room, carrying Merlin’s bags, and he gently undresses him, manoeuvring him under a hot shower, stepping in behind him and pulling him close, tenderly washing his hair, his body, Merlin simply standing still, like he’s in shock. Arthur switches off the water and gently dries Merlin, careful not to rub his bruises. He helps him brush his teeth. Then he puts him in some of his own soft sweats, a soft, worn t-shirt, and tucks him into bed, covers and pillows all around him, pulling him tightly to his own chest, stroking his hair, murmuring comfort. Merlin begins to cry then. Body wracking, anguished, painful sobs; losing his home, his family, finding himself alone in the world, scared in the darkness of the bus stop, vomiting into the trees behind, body sore and broken, overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers, relieved he’s with his Arthur, the one person in the world he trusts not to hurt him. Arthur holds him through it, stroking, caressing, kissing his forehead, his hair. Finally Merlin stops crying, and Arthur wriggles down the bed so that he’s eye to eye with his lover. 

“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” he asks, stroking Merlin’s arms? “I bet you haven’t eaten since breakfast. I can heat you up some lasagne? Or make you porridge and peanut butter?” Merlin smiles softly and shakes his head.

“No, this is perfect. I feel warm again.” Arthur smiles and snuggles closer, wrapping his arms and legs around Merlin snugly. He leans down to kiss Merlin and takes his time relaxing him, sliding his tongue softly over and against Merlin’s, along his lips, parting his lips again and again. Merlin begins to moan into his mouth. 

“I do love you, Merls, you know that, right? I love you so much I don’t know what to do with it. I want to press my love into all the parts of you people have touched, hurt, heal them.” Arthur starts stroking his hands, gently, underneath Merlin’s t-shirt and over his soft, bruised belly as he speaks, moving his hands down until he’s slipping them into Merlin’s bottoms. “Let me make you feel good, love?” he says, lightly pumping Merlin’s cock as he sucks and bites his mouth. Merlin burrows his head into Arthur’s neck and nods, breathing heavily.

“I love you too Arthur. I know I’m not much, really, and you could have anyone, but I am yours, for as long as you want me.” Arthur kisses Merlin sweetly and keeps stroking, caressing, soothing his cock.

“I’ll never stop wanting you,” he promises, “you’re my family, you’re mine, I’m yours, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll never leave you. I want to marry you Merls. I thought we should wait until leaving uni to legally bind ourselves but I think we should do it now. I know it’s only been eight months, but you’ll feel safer when we legally belong to each other. Marry me? Be my husband?” Merlin moans and comes into Arthur’s hand, shuddering against him.

“Arthur,” he mumbles, desperation in his voice, “I’m not good enough, you can’t be sure -” Arthur stops him with a kiss.

“Oi. That’s my beloved future husband you’re talking about. Be nice. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life. I was made for you, to protect you, to love you. We’re eighteen and nineteen, it’s our choice. I know, I’ve made mine. I want to marry you. Do you want to marry me?” Merlin’s face splits into his heart-stopping beam. 

“Yes, Arthur, you prat, of course I do, yes. Yes.” Arthur grins dopily into Merlin’s hair and giggles, Merlin is shivering again - but happily - in his arms. 

“Well we’ve got three weeks of holiday. Let’s drive up to Gretna Green and return to university as husbands.” Merlin looks at him as though he’s just hung the moon.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Six days later, when Merlin’s made himself at home in Arthur’s room, unpacking his few belongings, making it a shared space, and he’s made a new BFF out of Hilda, who is determined to ‘feed him up’, and his bruises have started to turn a mottled yellow, and Arthur has dragged him to the nearby park to enjoy the sunshine, and bought him ice-cream, and taken him to a jewellers to select two simple gold bands, they pack up the car at 5am and drive eight hours to Gretna Green. It’s a grim place. They book in with the registrar to get married in the next available slot - 4pm that afternoon - and ask the receptionist to be their witness. By 5pm they’re married, and Merlin has taken Arthur’s name. He’s now Merlin Pendragon. 

“Well we’re not staying here for our honeymoon,” Arthur snorts, pulling out his maps. “Let’s find a Scottish castle, shall we? Something medieval and King Arthurish. You can be my trusty warlock.” Merlin’s still got a yellow eye and a scabbed cut on his cheek, and he’s got dark bags under his eyes, and his clothes are hanging off him, he looks so skinny, so fragile, so frail, but to Arthur he looks beautiful, he’s always beautiful. Especially now, when he can’t stop smiling, delirious with happiness, he doesn’t stop touching Arthur, holding the hem of his shirt, leaning against him, kissing his shoulder, gazing reverently and disbelievingly at the gold band on his finger. Arthur had it inscribed with _Beloved and Legal Property of Arthur Pendragon_ which made Merlin positively glow with embarrassed happiness. And now they’re driving through the mountains and it’s stunning and Arthur’s married and feeling _free_ and glad that Merlin’s now under his protection, glad that Merlin’s happier than he’s ever seen him, humming as he looks out of the window, eats the jelly sweets Arthur put in the glove box for him - Haribo Starmix - just the love hearts and rings, which Arthur spent ages carefully extracting from lots of other bags to make a whole honeymoon ‘Lovemix’. Merlin thinks it’s hilarious. Arthur is determined not to be unfaithful anymore, he can’t risk Merlin’s happiness, marrying him is a fresh start for them both, a clean state. Marrying in your teens - and someone you’ve known for less than a year at that - is bonkers, but Arthur feels like it’s not a decision to come to regret, because it’s made Merlin _safe_ , and he feels that it’s written in his DNA that Merlin’s his to look after - he can’t and won’t ever trust anyone else with Merlin’s happiness, his security, his self-esteem. He’s got to put his playboy ways behind him. For sweet, lovely, gentle Merlin, the man he’s now bound to spend his life with. The thought of _forever_ makes him panic a bit inside again, but he tries not to think that far ahead, no-one knows what’s going to happen in the future. Marriage is what Merlin needed _right now_ to feel like he had family. Arthur needs to focus on now.

*

When they return to university, things change. For starters, Arthur ends their tenancy on the flat in the shabby side of town (he feels like he’s proved his point to the rugby crew, enough’s enough now), and rents them an expensive one-bed Victorian conversion right off the old Tudor High Street. For Merlin, this is now his only home, and he carefully goes about furnishing it, making it ‘cosy’, taking Arthur to see antiques he’s found, paintings he likes, always inexpensive, as he’s never had any money. He buys a ‘Home is where the heart is’ chalkboard for the kitchen and leaves Arthur dusty chalk notes when he leaves before him in the mornings. Arthur thinks it’s a bit cheesy, but he’s glad that Merlin’s happy, and safe, and that he has somewhere nice to live. Merlin found out early into the new term that his parents cut him off, leaving him with too little money from his student loan to live, really, but Arthur insisted on paying rent and bills and groceries, batting away Merlin’s objections with the reasoning that as husbands, Arthur’s fortune is now Merlin’s to share. Merlin flushed and curled into his lap, thanking him silently with soft kisses to his neck. His library job gives him enough money to have some independence, and he spends most of what he earns on things for the house, or presents for Arthur (who really doesn’t need any more woolly items of clothing). He lights the fire in the sitting room every evening and sits in front of it writing his essays, socked feet curled beneath him, music playing softly in the background. He cooks a proper meal for him and Arthur every night, except for Saturday’s - which Arthur insists is ‘date night’ and requires restaurant or takeaway food - and Sundays, when Arthur makes a roast. He invites Gwen and Freya and Mordred round for film evenings, Mexican food nights (Freya’s idea), and he glows with pride when Arthur comes home and charms all his friends, easily chatting to them and welcoming them. He watches Arthur play rugby, loyally cheering from the sidelines, and joins in the pub drinking/quiz/shenanigans with his friends afterwards. Gwen insists on accompanying Merlin to one of these matches to “meet hot men” and promptly falls head over arse for Lance. Then they go on double dates; bowling, movies and popcorn, spaghetti and wine, board game cafes. Arthur sleeps with Merlin between his legs, pressed to his heart, he watches TV with Merlin cocooned in blankets on his lap, they listen to music together, holding hands by the fire, they cook together, eat together, wake each other up with snuggles and kisses, occasionally lazy hand jobs, blow jobs, make love to each other two or three times a week, sweetly, seriously, Merlin whispering Arthur’s name as though he were God himself. If their life were an American movie in the 1950s it would be called _It’s a wonderful life_. Except that for Arthur, it’s not. He’s too young for this. He misses clubbing and drinking and having boyish fun. He can’t go out with his friends anymore either: they know he’s married and they adore Merlin and would invite him along, or send Arthur back to him when the clock strikes midnight, lest he turn into a pumpkin. Arthur’s starting to feel claustrophobic, and that makes him more frantic with Merlin, especially after a drink or two, and Merlin thinks it’s work stress and that he needs to be soothed and holds his face in his hands and kisses him gently until he’s in control enough to be calm and tender, and that makes things worse. So he tells Merlin he’s trying out a new hobby - deep-sea night fishing - and starts having an ‘evening out’ every time the pressure gets too much. Merlin shivers and looks at him like he’s mad, but sends him off with a flask of tea and a box of sandwiches and kisses him and tells him to be safe. Arthur drives two hours to the nearest city, goes to the bars in the dodgy part of town, dances with and fucks meaningless strangers, men and women, showers at his 24 hour gym on his way home, and then slips into bed at dawn next to Merlin, who subconsciously gravitates towards his warmth and nuzzles close. Merlin’s happy, so Arthur’s happy, if a little nostalgic for his former life, and occasionally suffocated by the enormity of what he’s committed to. Being responsible for someone else’s _life_ is a burden he wasn’t prepared to shoulder; he needs to let off steam so he’s not crushed by the weight. He needs to have some of his old life in order to be what Merlin needs him to be in this new one. 

 

“Why don’t we go out out?” Arthur tries one Friday evening approaching their Summer break, given that their end of term assessments and exams are nearly over. “Act like students instead of an old married couple?” Merlin looks up worriedly from his nest of textbooks in front of the fire. 

“We never go ‘out out’?” he says, tilting his head quizzically. 

“Well that’s rather the point,” Arthur says amiably, climbing off the sofa to lie on the floor by Merlin, kissing his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth on the way down. Merlin smiles and rolls on top of Arthur. 

“What does ‘out out’ mean then?” Arthur strokes his hair and shrugs.

“The usual line up. Cocktail bar, club, followed by a worse club, preferably gay and grimy and full of glitter, drink glow-in the dark shots, pole dance extremely badly, get some bruises that are impossible to explain the next day, wear inappropriately skimpy clothing, have ill-advised sex in the smoking alley behind the dumpsters, get a greasy kebab and eat it on the pavement in the rain, stagger home, make cheese on toast, have a hot shower whilst it burns, decide to have a Lord of the Rings marathon at 4.30am and fall asleep as soon as Frodo’s left the shire, doomed for a night on the sofa, resulting in terrible joint pains for about three days afterwards.” Merlin raises his eyebrows dubiously. 

“Have you actually done that?” 

“For most of my teenage years, yes,” Arthur confirms jovially.

“And you had fun?” Merlin asks, nose wrinkled distastefully. Arthur nods. Merlin furrows his forehead. “I don’t think I’m the glittery, all-night dance-diva type really,” he says apologetically. “We could go to that new cocktail bar you wanted to try though? Prometheus? The one in the converted church? It stays open until 1am I think?” Merlin sounds so earnest and eager to please Arthur that Arthur has to drag him down for a kiss, cradling his head, fingers tangled in his dark hair, other hand sliding down his body and under his jumper (an old Rugby sweater of Arthur’s), gently pinching his nipples, fingers skirting over his ribcage. 

“Can I get you very drunk?” Arthur whispers gruffly into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin flushes and grins, pressing his body against Arthur’s.

“I’m married,” he murmurs with a small smile, gasping when Arthur slides a hand beneath his thighs, lightly rubbing his hardening cock. “My husband wouldn’t approve.”

“Oh I think he’d very much approve,” Arthur mouths against Merlin’s neck, hand moving now inside his trousers. “I think he’d love to have you loose-limbed and giggling beneath him, salty with sweat and glitter.” Merlin groans and pushes into Arthur’s hand, sliding his own hands under Arthur’s jumper, pulling him close.

“Would that be before or after the cheese toasties?” he half-whispers, eyes-closed, body responding instinctively to Arthur’s touch. Arthur snorts. 

“If it were up to you, our night out out would start with the toasties and end with a hot shower and a Tolkien marathon, wouldn’t it?” Merlin laughs and rubs himself against Arthur needily. 

“Bedroom?” he murmurs, gazing at Arthur and shivering slightly as Arthur plays with his foreskin. Arthur grins lasciviously. 

“I’m going to fill your beautiful arsehole with come, clean you out, and then take you for cocktails so you can wear that devastating new cashmere jumper I bought you,” he says, jumping to his feet and hauling a blushing Merlin over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

*

By the summer, Merlin’s turned 19 and Arthur’s turned 20. They travel to his father’s sprawling villa on Lake Como to spend a few weeks in Italy, and are joined there by Morgana, who is ice-cold and relentless as always. After coolly appraising a nervous Merlin she proprietorially places a hand on Arthur’s forearm. 

“Merlin, I’d love to catch-up with my brother, I’m sure you’ll understand, there’s a lamb. Can I steal him away to the piazza for a gelato?” Merlin hurriedly nods, beet-red, glancing uncertainly at Arthur. Arthur rolls his eyes at Morgana.

“He’s terrified of you, dreadful harpy.” Leaving his seat to sit next to Merlin, he cuddles him close. “She honestly hates everyone new for at least six years,” he says cheerfully. Merlin blanches. 

“Oh. Well, um - I mean I - oh. Okay. I mean, yes, fine … of course.” Arthur laughs and Morgana smacks him round the head.

“Ice-cream, brother,” she commands imperiously, sweeping from the room. 

“Isn’t that a little warm for you?” he mutters, raising a tiny smile from Merlin. “Will you be okay by the pool for an hour or so, baby?” Merlin nods, eyes widening as he sees something appear behind Arthur. “Morgana’s standing behind me in sunglasses and tapping her heel, isn’t she?” Merlin is mute. Arthur sighs and kisses Merlin’s forehead. “Love you,” he whispers, brushing his fingers through Merlin’s hair. Merlin catches his hand, voice recovered.

“I love you more,” he says seriously, blushing furiously under Morgana’s shaded gaze. 

Morgana doesn’t speak until they’re sitting in a sunny little square with fresh Italian coffee and pistachio ice-cream. 

“I’d ask if you got him pregnant, but that seems unlikely. Unless he’s actually a girl. Is he a girl?” Arthur keeps a serious face, as the situation demands, and shakes his head demurely. Morgana lights a cigarette. “Then what in hell are you playing at little brother? You’ve only just left your teens - you were the biggest playboy Eton had ever seen! Why in god’s name would you marry yourself off before your life begins … and to a boy? Who seems sweet but utterly incompetent and dependent on you. How do you know he’s not a gold-digger? I’m sure they come in twink form too.” Arthur drinks his coffee and enjoys the burn on his tongue. He gazes out at the square before replying, and eventually shrugs. Morgana at least is being patient with him today. 

“I love him Morgs. He’s not a gold-digger. It’s not in his DNA. He’s basically sugar and all things nice - the nicest person in the world, really. And he’s not … _inadequate_ -” Arthur wrinkles his nose at the word, “- but it’s true I do feel responsible for him. It was like that from the first moment I met him - the flat was freezing because he couldn’t afford to pay for the heating alone, and he was shivering under about four jumpers and I remember the first two things I thought about him were - one: he’s beautiful, and two: I want to make him warm. I didn’t realise that I was attracted to him sexually until a few weeks later, but I think I must have already fallen in love with him. And so what if he’s a man? So I like men too. Get over it.” Morgana taps her fingers on the table impatiently, and huffs dismissively.

“Oh don’t be a child, Arthur, I don’t care who you fuck. I don’t understand why you’d _marry_ him? Fuck him, look after him, make him warm, love him … whatever, fine, I get that, enjoy. But you _married_ him. Without a prenup. You’re an idiot.” Arthur smiles ruefully at Morgana and arches an eyebrow.

“Not much to be done about it now, is there? He’s mine. So can you be nice to him, please?” Arthur leans over to get one of Morgana’s cigarettes and he lights it and inhales deeply. “He hasn’t had many people be kind to him,” Arthur says quietly, looking imploringly at Morgana, serious for once. “It would mean a lot to me if you were. I want him to have a family.” Morgana sighs irritably, but Arthur can see her face has softened, she’s using the sunglasses to hide behind now, not to intimidate. “Morgs?” he says in his best pleading little brother voice. She throws her napkin at him.

“I’ll be kind. How are your grades?” Arthur grins at her attempt to avoid emotion and lists off his stellar essay and exam results.

When they get home, Arthur heads straight for the pool, dropping a box of macaroons on Merlin’s lap (he’s developed a taste for them). Merlin beams up at him, pausing his drawing of the mountains. 

“That’s amazing,” Arthur whistles, crouching beside him, “you never told me you could draw?” Merlin shrugs modestly and bites his lip, fiddling with his pencil. 

“I can’t really, I just enjoy it,” he says, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s broad shoulders. He pulls away abruptly when Morgana arrives on the terrace. 

“Your form is excellent,” Morgana comments, gesturing towards his drawing, “you clearly have a talent. And your eyes are a lovely shade of blue.” She continues down the terrace to find a lounger in the sun and Merlin watches her, astonished, before gaping at Arthur, eyes comically wide. Arthur lies on the floor and laughs. 

“I think she likes you,” he eventually informs Merlin. Merlin looks perplexed, but a little less nervous.

 

*

_To be continued ..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a WIP; I might come back to it and see what happens with these two. Until then, I know at least that Merlin's been left happy; I can't have a story ending with either of them sad!


End file.
